You Do Have a Soul, Don't You?
by Alpha-alien
Summary: AU:/ It would be a full year before Megatron could return to Cyberton and his army. The fortune teller had condemned him to a fate worse than death. Finding out if he truly had a soul... hiatus
1. An Abnormal Day

It wouldn't leave me alone.

This is Alternate Universe in it's purist form.

I own nothing, besides Madame Clairvoyant.

It came to me while I was listening to Friends on the Other Side.

No, this probably won't follow the Princess and the Frog.

I'm not even sure if there will be romance (hah! Romance...)

Rating is M for language and violence in the near future.

Eh, I don't know. You're probably tired of reading me ramble on, so go ahead and skip down.

Oh, also (lol afterthought) I apologies if Megs seems a bit OOC here.

I'm not used to writing fics for him. This is my first.

(*off in the distance, the sound of a MegatronFiction Cherry is heard popping***Bonzai!**)

* * *

You Do Have A Soul, Don't You?

An Abnormal Day

Saying it was a normal day would be an understatement. Lord Megatron would _not_ call being stuck the way he was normal. By no means! This was completely ridiculous! All because Starscream wanted to see the Fortune Teller. _Why the Pit do I put up with him? Once I get back to normal, I'll -_ Malicious thoughts gave way, and Megatron was forced to remember exactly _why_ he was in this predicament.

[00]

"Why are we here?" Megatron growled, red optics flashing angrily. Starscream looked over, hands behind his back, and smiled.

"I want to get my fortune told!" he said, and Megatron's vents shot forth a hot blast of air - a mechanical equivalent to a human's snort. The seeker smiled and hurried inside the chamber, transparent purple curtains shifting to a side, and clattered as the small metal beads smashed against each other. Megatron took another look at the sign.

**Madame Clairvoyant's**

**Magiques and Merveilles**

_**charms, potions, talismans**_

_**tarot/servo readings**_

_**"Art older than Cyberton"**_

Megatron scoffed. "My aft," he muttered, entering the chamber.

Clairvoyant was a femme who was more than odd. Her frame was slender, and kibble, Megatron had no clue what it came from, adorned her body. Her digits were thin, and ended in sharp claws. Her optics where a strange smokey yellow, and her helm had two strange protrusions, almost horn-like. Over her helm was a black cloth and around her throat was a red cloth that was tied and fell to the ground - two tiny bells attached to the ends. She looked up as the seeker and tyrant entered, and smiled.

"Gentlemen, _enchanté_," She cast out her arm, "Welcome to my _humble_ corner of the market." Her vocals were laced with a soothing accent. Starscream smiled, finding himself fascinated by all the objects. Megatron pretended to be equally impressed, while out the corner of his optic he examined _Madame_ Clairvoyant. Her coloring, from what he could see in the dim light, was silver and black, dominantly. Her forearms had red armor, and her peds also had the same crimson coloring.

It was the two small articles of clothing that intrigued him. Not many Cybertronians wore clothing, but she had this veil and scarf and wore them with, he hoped that's what it was, pride. Starscream soon pulled away from a small, ornate statuette and walked towards Clairvoyant.

"I'm - " Clairvoyant raised her servo.

"Say nothing," she ordered, before offering her servo. Starscream looked at it before placing his servo in hers. While Clairvoyant traced a single clawed digit across his servo, Starscream's face contorted, not in pain. Maybe disgust? Whatever it was, the femme did not seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't care.

"You're designation is Starscream, second-in-command to the Decepticon leader, Megatron," she spoke quietly, continuing her digit down his servo, up to the tips of his digits. Starscream shuddered from the touch, wanting very much to pull away. When Clairvoyant finally let go, Starscream withdrew his servo, and stared at it, as if to make sure it was still there. Clairvoyant laughed, her shaking frame causing the bells to chime. "I see you are in for a surprise." she whispered. Starscream looked at her. Megatron finally stepped forward.

"This is nonsense!"  
"But, Megatron!" Starscream stated, "She _knew_ who I was!"  
"Of course! You're not unknown!" the tyrant raged. "She knows who you are! She knows who I am! You're just feeding her your credits for false predictions." Starscream stared at his leader, jaw slacked. He seemed to be looking for a good comeback, but was finding it hard.

The chiming of bells mixed with a low laughter drew the tyrant and his second-in-command's attention back to Clairvoyant.

"You doubt me, Lord Megatron?" she stared at him with those smokey optics. Megatron glared, his own optics narrowing.

"I do. I don't believe in any of this," he pointed an accusing digit at her, "You are a fraud. Just like all the others who practice this _art_!" Clairvoyant suddenly stood, and it was amazing at how tall the femme was. She nearly towered over Megatron.

"**How dare you disrespect me, you pathetic glitch!**" She screamed, stalking towards him, claws bared threateningly. "**I've helped mechs and femmes with greater desires than your worthless hopes of ruling! I've brought sparks together, and I've extinguished sparks!**" She pointed to him, and spoke more calmly. "You are not worth my time, leave."

Megatron gaped, his facade crumbled. "Not worth your time? Who do you think you are? **I am Megatron!**" Clairvoyant glared.

"You have no soul! You are an empty shell; broken, used. You desire something so trivial as absolute rule and power! Your spark pulses, and fluids run through your cables, but your soul, it's long since left you. You are nothing. You are _slag_. You. Are. Junk."

That shouldn't have hurt. It was meaningless, coming from this con artist. He had a soul, and it desired power! He should point his fusion canon at her and blast this teller into the next millennium. But he didn't; and it did hurt. He felt his spark sputter and withdrew deeper into it's chamber at every word she spoke. His fluids ran cold, and he felt like he would crash at that moment - but he didn't. He was Lord Megatron, and he would not show weakness to this, this, _femme_!

So, why couldn't he find his courage? Clairvoyant glared down at him a moment longer before her arm snapped forward. She wrapped her servo around his wrist and drew it closer to her face. Megatron knew why Starscream had flinched as she traced a clawed digit down his palm. The metal on her servos were cold, and the digit seemed to be tracing his soul. She finally spoke.

"You believe you have a soul?" Megatron glared back at her.

"I know I do!" The mech tore his servo from hers. Clairvoyant laughed, and turned, walking over to a table. She appeared to be looking for something, her servo raised in the air. It would dip down, but suddenly retract, as if she thought she found what she was looking for, but realized that wasn't it.

Soon, she came back, a small vial of red liquid in her servo. She shoved it forward. "Drink it," she hissed. She walked back towards the chair she had been resting in, as Megatron looked at the liquid. He tilted the vial, watching as the liquid seemed to slowly follow gravity's law.

"What is this?" he asked, not expecting an answer. He was proven correct as Clairvoyant ignored him. He looked around, and noticed Starscream had left - possibly in fear when Megatron was arguing with the fortune teller. Against better judgment, Megatron carefully tore the lid off the vial and brought it to his lip components. The liquid slowly traveled down the glass into his mouth. Once it made contact with his glossa, Megatron was rewarded with a metallic, bitter taste. He sputtered and coughed, but spitting the liquid out was out of the question. It had forced it's way down his throat, and he could feel it traveling along his inner workings.

"What the _Pit_ was that?" He roared. Clairvoyant was hovering over something, mumbling under her breath. Megatron stepped forward, prepared to beat the femme senseless until she spoke to him, when he felt a twinge of pain in his gut. This was followed by shots of pain in his arms, legs and chest. He drew his servo towards his spark, optics wide. "What - what did you _do_?"

"If you have a soul, as you claim you do," Clairvoyant was finally speaking to him. She also seemed to be getting taller, "Then you will prove it. You'll spend one deca-cycle like this. I shall send you to Earth to live out this sentence." She smiled, as his warning system went off. The last thing Megatron heard was those damn bells.

[00]

Now, here he was. Squishy. Jet black hair hung in his face, red eyes hidden behind black shades. Clairvoyant had been grateful enough to allow him clothes. Looking down at them - a white shirt under a black jacket, black jeans and steel-toe boots - Megatron realized it would be a long deca-cycle.

"Year," he mumbled to himself, looking up at the clear blue sky which seemed to mock him, endlessly. "She made me a human, so I better start using their terms." It was going to be a long year.


	2. Fall from Grace

Hah! I actually got around to chapter two!

Which is good, I actually thought I was going to forget about this story. Glad I didn't.

Anyway, the story is down there. Reviewing makes you cool. *hinthint*

Also, as a note, I never knew trying to keep Megs in character would be hard. I actually sat here, second-guessing everything I wrote for him, unsure of it that'd be what he would do - then I remembered it's an AU, so I guess it doesn't really matter - to an extent. *looks around* Yah. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

* * *

You Do Have A Soul, Don't You?

Fall from Grace

Megatron swore Primus had it in for him. Really. The damn femme had given him clothing but _absolutely__** no money**__!_ What did she intend on him to do? _Work?_ In a squishy job? Oh, ho ho. He thought not!

The growl from his stomach reached his ears, and he wondered if he could steal food from somewhere. Megatron placed a hand on his crying stomach. It wanted something, and it didn't care what. Megatron sighed, continuing his walk down the way. Human femmes – _girls_, Megatron corrected. They're girls. – looked at him as he walked by, blushing and giggling like sparklings. Megatron didn't see why. _Must be a human thing._ He mused, but decided to no humiliate himself by trying to simulate their reactions.

A smell attacked his nose. It was delicious. Feeling his mouth water, Megatron followed the smell, his stomach roaring for nourishment. He turned down an alley way, the smell getting stronger. "What in the name of Primus could smell this good down _here_?" He wondered aloud. Soon, he found his answer. Behind a restaurant, a fresh supply of discarded food had been thrown out. From what he could tell, the restaurant wasn't very "high class". Half eaten chicken legs, a picked-at fish carcass, and scattered green leaves with some kind of white substance on it could be seen in the garbage. Megatron grimaced, contorting his face in disgust. His stomach demanded satisfaction.

"Hey, buddy. You ain't gonna eat it, movie it." He looked up and saw two squishies – humans! Stop it! – staring at him. One femme, the other, who had spoken, a mech. He glared at Megatron and roughly shoved him over before hoisting himself into the dumpster.

"James, that was rude!" The femme said, sighing. She then turned towards Megatron. "I'm sorry. We just haven't eaten in a while. He's usually very polite." Megatron scoffed, not really caring, though his right hand was clenched tight, ready to blow the fleshy to Cybertron and back. _I wish I had my fusion cannon, _He thought, woefully. In fact, he wished he had a lot of things that were, coincidentally, left of Cybertron.

There, he was living the fabulous life. Each night, he'd have a goblet of the finest high-grade in one servo, and at least two, if not more, femmes in his other. Wealth was at his digit-tips, and all he had to do was snap them, demand something and _viola!_ There it was on a silver tray. Every night, he would demand something new and exiting, and every night it was provided. Megatron had found that wealth could provide happiness, you just needed to know how to use said wealth. And by Primus, Megatron knew how. Now? Now, he sat there, being pushed aside to eat out of _garbage_. He had sunken low, unbelievably low.

"Here." Looked up, the femme – girl. Girl, fraggit! – was holding out the fish. It had been half eaten, the skeletal structure peeking out from the meat. Megatron was about to tell her to go frag off, when his stomach seemed to have taken over. He took the water dweller and began to devour the other half. The girl took a step back and stared in wonder as Megatron pulled meat from bone, and even sucked off the meat that clung stubbornly. "Jesus, you must be hungry. When did you last eat?" Megatron ignored her, too busy sating his hunger. The taste was terrible, the fish smell catching his nose and making him want to purge – vomit. Making him want to vomit, but his stomach kept the food, demanding more.

Within a minute, Megatron dropped the carcass, licking his fingers. The girl's mouth fell agape, as the mech – boy – walked over, tossing a bone behind him.

"You gave him your food?" he asked, wiping the grease and grime from his fingers on his shirt. He did seem more relaxed. The girl nodded.

"Honestly, I thought he was going to eat the _skeleton_." She whispered, still in awe.

Megatron _urped_, swallowing what food had slipped from his stomach's hold. He pulled a hand towards his mouth, panting heavily. The girl took a step forward.

"You alright?" Megatron looked up at her, and finally took in her features. She had dirty, blonde hair pulled behind her and bright brown eyes. A heavy coat was pulled around her, covering most of her frame, and a pair of worn shoes protected her feet. Her face was tanned with ethnicity and dirt. She smiled, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

"My name is Camille." She pointed to the boy next to her (he had black hair, brown eyes and dressed in a tattered shirt, jeans and shoes, Megatron noticed. Both seemed to have rolled around in dirt shortly before arriving at the dumpster), "and this is my brother, James." James gave a short nod, before scratching the back of his head.

"Eh, sorry about shoving you away, earlier." He said, sheepishly. Megatron huffed in response, trying hard to keep the fish from rising. Camille seemed to have noticed, and stepped forward.

"Hey, you alright? You look sick," She placed a hand on his shoulder, and Megatron turned his head to dispose of bile and fish. He coughed, sputtered, and took three large gulps of air. Camille was currently rubbing his back in a large circle; making sounds that Megatron heard only when he was a sparkling. "It's alright, alright. Let it out, that's it." She whispered. Megatron gulped more air, trying to find the willpower to shove her hand away and yell at her. But the strain of having purged everything from his stomach had made him weak.

Walking all day, starving, devouring food and purging it, it was all too much. Megatron used what was left of his strength to push himself so he would fall _away_ from his vomit. The last thought he had as his head slammed against the concrete was not a pleasant one. _Megatron; one of the wealthiest in Cybertron, now on Earth. Creditless and homeless. Now, passing out in an alleyway. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen. And he has fallen _very_ hard.

Primus had it out for him. He knew it, the slagger.


	3. Worse Case Senario

I've been lazy with writing this.

:c

I've been lazy with writing, period.

Sorry for the wait (for those who are reading this).

Reviews are cool. Just saying.

* * *

You Do Have A Soul, Don't You?

Worse Case Scenario

Something wet covered his forehead. Groaning, Megatron raised a shaking hand to remove the foreign object.

"You're awake! Thank goodness." A soft whisper reached his ears. Opening his eyes, Megatron looked up, and saw a filthy rag in his hand; a clear liquid was slowly dripping down a frayed thread. He made a face, _this thing _touched_ me. _He moved to sit up, but a hand suddenly forced him back down. Megatron followed the hand and saw it was connected to the girl from before. Her face was stern, as a second hand carefully touched his forehead. Her hand felt icy cold.

"You still have a fever. You shouldn't move until it drops." She smiled, and pulled the rag from Megatron's still raised hand and rung it out, dipping it into a small puddle. Looking around, Megatron noticed that they had moved from the alley, and it was raining. He closed his eyes, as his body began to register sensations. His head throbbed, his stomach felt bubbly, his mouth was dry and his throat itched. He lowered his hand and scratched at his throat, getting no satisfaction.

"Are you thirsty?" Megatron opened a single eye to look at the girl. She had a thermos in hand and smiled. Megatron frowned.

"No. I don't need your assistance." He hissed, hearing his voice crack. The girl laughed.

"He speaks! I was afraid you were a mute, you know." She opened the lid to the thermos and took a slow drink. "It's good that you can talk. You've been out cold for a few hours." She leaned against the wall and stared out into the flooding streets. Megatron took this time to look at his surroundings. _A street corner, charming._ The only things keeping him and the girl dry were trees and an awning (though the awning had several holes in it).

"I don't think I caught your name." Megatron looked over at the girl, scowling. She smiled, swirling the thermos in a slow circle.

"I never gave it." He spat, moving to sit up again. The girl once again forced him back.

"Stop that. You're not going anywhere. Not with that fever and certainly not in this weather." She scolded, crossing her arms. Megatron shifted, realizing the heavy coat that the girl was wearing before was now draped over him in a mock blanket. He freed his other arm, and mimicked the girl's gesture by crossing his arms.

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?" he mumbled, not wanting to back down without a good long fight. The girl looked down at him.

"At least until your fever drops. Preferably, the weather will also cooperate when it does." Her body tensed, and then relaxed as a stifled yawn escaped her lips. She brought up a hand, and covered her mouth. "S'cuse, me." She whispered. Megatron growled, not liking the feeling of being weak, A, and B, being taken care of by this squishy mound of flesh. It was _humiliating_! Oh, if Starscream ever found out, the second-in-command would never allow his leader to live it down. _"Thundercracker! Skywarp! Did you hear? Megatron was taken care of by a Fleshling! Isn't that just so cute? Ah-ha-ha!"_

"There's no need to be so grouchy." The girl muttered, turning her eyes towards the streets. Megatron raised his head, and could see the streets were very much empty. A handful of people were out, under umbrellas and coats, one unlucky fleshy was cowering under a newspaper, jogging in place at a corner bus stop. He could laugh at how pathetic she looked, but has his body quivered, his new human stomach protested, threatening to purge whatever it could grab. Megatron groaned, falling backwards.

"I do not want to be here!" he managed to croak, his voice sounded scratchy and broken. Closing his eyes, he took multiple breaths, a vain attempt to calm his stomach. It seemed to work, for the quaking and shuttering of the organ seemed to relax. It still hurt like frag, though.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to suck it up and be a man about all this." The girl said, sternly. "Now why don't you go back to sleep?"

"I don't _want_ to go to sleep, you little –" he cut himself short, nearly calling her a 'little fleshy'. He took a breath and exhaled. The girl frowned.

"Shall we be civilized, now?" she asked, calmly. Megatron opened a single eye and fixed it's gaze on her. She had said her name, back when he first saw her. What was it, now?

"Con-meal?" he murmured. The girl looked at him. "That was your name?" The femme didn't seem to hear the mispronunciation.

"Camille, yes." She smiled, "That's my name. What's yours?" Megatron fought hard to come up with a human-sounding name.

"Miles," he finally decided on. Camille's smile broadened. She seemed completely happy that Megatron had provided a name.

"Miles," she repeated. "Well, Miles, mind telling me how you wound up on the streets?" She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Megatron sighed; he had hoped providing a name would keep her quiet. Instead, it provoked more questions. Questions he didn't want to answer.

"It's … complicated." He settled on. Camille frowned.

"You just don't want to talk about it."

"That is also true." Camille's frown grew. Megatron decided to try and take her advice. He closed his eye and began to try to sleep.

"You don't have to isolate yourself." Megatron's face contorted. "You can talk to me. Who am I going to tell?" Megatron remained quiet. He heard Camille sigh, and shift her position. It seemed sleep quickly took hold and Megatron was pulled into a dream about being stomped on by Optimus Prime and having Starscream breathe into him, inflating Megatron like a balloon.


End file.
